Let Him Not Be Forgotten
by The Dunadan
Summary: Wiglaf tells of Beowulf's death. I wrote this for English class, actually(it got 100!). The rating may be a bit high, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.


Disclaimer: I do not own Beowulf. 'Tis an ancient tale that I cannot claim to own any part of, and the one who does own it, I believe, was an anonymous monk, but I could be wrong.

**"Let Him Not Be Forgotten"**

"Please, my lord," a small child at my feet looked earnestly into my eyes, "I would like to hear of the king who ruled before you...tell me again of Beowulf the brave."

I chuckled, "Again? You never tire of hearing of him, do you my son?"

The boy shook his head.

"And what shall I tell you?"

"Everything!"

"Not tonight, pick one of his adventures; there is not time for all of them."

The boy's young brow creased in thought for a moment, "Tell me of his death."

I sat back in my throne and looked at him thoughtfully, "Now why would a young boy like you care to hear such a sad story?"

"Glory, honor...tales of death often hold such things we find so noble. Especially Beowulf's death. He lives on when you tell me his story."

I nodded, "Yes...yes he does. Very well..." I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, leaning my head back against my throne, recalling that dark day to my mind and preparing myself to tell it to my precious son.

"Beowulf had reigned over Herot for many, many years, fifty, as I recall. He was an old man when a Geat stole a jeweled cup from a dragon nearby. Now this dragon became furious with the Geats and was ruining their lands. So, this thief came to Beowulf and begged him on his knees to slay this beast. Beowulf agreed, never being one to refuse a chance for fame, and called eleven of us to come with him. The thief led us to the dragon's lair, and Beowulf entered it alone, armed with only a sword and shield.

He fought a great battle, but he was losing and our aid was needed. But all of his men had deserted him in fear, except for me. I ran to his side and helped him to defeat the dragon, but not before he had received fatal wounds. As he lay dying, he asked me to show him the treasure we had won, so I hurried away to do so, then ran back to him. I only hoped that I wasn't too late. The cave was still warm from the beast's foul breath, but the worst smell was of burnt flesh, and the worst sound was the silence. I picked up my pace, fearing the worst. When I got there, Beowulf lay on the ground in worse condition than when I had left him, gasping for breath, blackened and bloodied from his battle.

"My lord!" I gasped and dropped to my knees at his side, pulling my waterskin from my belt and pouring its contents over his face and gently down his throat until he tried to speak.

"Wiglaf..." he rasped, finding it nearly impossible to breathe, let alone speak. When he found it possible, he gave me his last wishes, "For this, this gold, these jewels, I thank our Father in Heaven, Ruler of earth–for all of this, that His grace has given me, allowed me to bring to my people while breath still came to my lips."

"_No..."_ My thoughts were as clear to me still as the moment I had thought them.

"I sold my life for this treasure," his eyes strayed to the gleaming pile of gold and jewels behind me, "and I sold it well."

"_Don't leave me..."_

"Take what I leave, Wiglaf, lead my people,"

"_Please don't leave me..."_

"Help them; my time is gone."

"Don't say that!" I took the hand of my lord gently, desperately...I needed him.

"You know it is true, my friend...have the brave Geats build me a tomb, when the funeral flames have burned me, and build it here, at the water's edge, high on this spit of land, so sailors can see this tower and remember my name. And call it Beowulf's tower, and boats in the darkness and mist crossing the sea will know it." He closed his eyes, "Promise me."

I nodded, barely able to see him through the tears which threatened to flow freely down my face; I would do whatever he asked of me. "Yes, my lord."

He sighed and reached up to place his hand on my cheek; his smile was the only part of him that was as before, minus the strain death was beginning to take on him. He then proceeded to give me his belongings as he would a son. He gave me his golden necklace, his gold-covered helmet, his rings, and his mail shirt, making me swear to use them well, saying, "You're the last of all our far-flung family. Fate has swept our race away, taken warriors in their strength and led them to the death that was waiting. And now I follow them."

My kin and king then closed his eyes and breathed his last in my arms. I held his still-warm, limp body close to mine and bent my head over his, my body wracked with sobs at last. I don't know how long I sat there holding him, but I know that my sorrow drained most of what strength I had left in me for the journey home. I spent the night in the lair of my enemy, unable to sleep until a few hours before dawn. When I arose, I placed his body on my horse and walked home.

The warriors who had accompanied us a day before had the nerve to show their faces as I walked between the houses. I built a pyre for my lord and friend, then called the Geats around it.

"Behind me lays the body of the world's greatest warrior, ruler, and friend. And yet none of you," I made eye contact with the members of our band who had fled in my lord's hour of need, but they made no contact with mine, "chose to stay with him when he needed you the most. Of all the men in this land and others, of all the rulers and warriors he could have chosen, you were the ones he chose to put his faith in...and you failed him. After swearing an oath to fight alongside him, after accepting his generosity and friendship, you allowed him to die a death he never deserved. You have no honor..._none_. May God deal with you ever so severely, and should you be spoken of after your passing, may it be with due scorn and disdain for your act of betrayal." Each seemed intent on studying the grass at his feet and I knew that my words had done their duty, Beowulf would not have wanted me to say more, had he been alive.

"Now," I continued after a moment, "I have one last duty to perform for my king, and I need you to help me...it is the least you can do." I related Beowulf's final wishes to them. And his burial tower stands on the cliffs above the sea to this day, as you and I have visited many times, seen by all the sailors on their voyages, and so Beowulf is remembered by all who cast eyes on it."

I looked down at my son, who quickly wiped away a tear and obviously hoped I hadn't seen it. "And now to bed, Beowulf." I kissed his forehead and watched him run off, his blond hair flowing behind him as his namesake's had many years before.

I removed the necklace I had worn since the day my lord had given it to me and fingered it reminiscently.

"Let him not be forgotten." I whispered. And somehow, I knew he never would be.


End file.
